by Peter Brown
CHAPTER 43
THE OPERATION
Midnight, and the children were wide-awake in their beds. Jaya and Jad were waiting for their father to fall asleep. Once he was snoring deeply, they tiptoed past his bedroom, down the stairs, and out the back door.
They crept across the farm to a cluster of trees, and there was the old barn, looming above the undergrowth like a mountain. Its door was open a crack, and a wedge of light spilled outside. The children closed the door behind them, and walked past wooden railings and stairways and up a ramp to a platform in the back corner of the barn. Lanterns hung from the walls and cast their soft light upon a large table. Standing behind the table was the robot.
“Hello, children,” said Roz. “How do you like our operating room?”
“It’s a little dark,” said Jaya. “But it’ll work.”
Jad pulled his computer from his pocket. As he brought up the diagram of Roz’s body, his face tightened with worry. “We’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Just do your best,” said Roz, patting him on the back. “That is all I can ask of you.”
The robot unfastened her tool belt and draped it over a railing. Then she lay flat on the table. It was time to begin.
Jaya looked down at Roz. “All set?”
Roz looked up at Jaya. “All set.”
The girl felt under the robot’s head, found the button with her fingers, and pressed it.
Click.
Roz’s body relaxed.
Her quiet whirring slowly stopped.
Her eyes faded to black.
Jad took a deep breath. Then he grasped the robot’s head in his hands and twisted until—thwip—it popped off. In the smooth socket where the head had just been was another button. Jaya pressed it and the robot’s chest opened up. They peered into the hollow chest cavity and saw a tangle of tubes connected to a grid of boxes: these were the robot’s electronic organs.
“That’s the Transmitter,” said Jad, pointing. The children reached into the robot’s chest, carefully removed a box and a tube, and set them on the table.
“That was easy!” said Jaya, smiling.
“Actually, I think this is the Transmitter over here,” said Jad, and he removed another box. Then Jaya removed another tube. The boy checked his computer and said, “I might have this backward.” A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he removed another box.
“Wait, I think we should start over.” Jaya nudged her brother out of the way and started plugging parts back into the robot’s chest.
“You’re doing it wrong.” Jad nudged his sister out of the way and started removing parts again.
I don’t know about you, reader, but I’m a little confused. So were the children. Pretty soon Roz’s internal parts were strewn across the table, and nobody knew where anything was supposed to go.
“Why did you remove so many boxes?” yelled Jaya.
“Why did you remove so many tubes?” yelled Jad.
The siblings argued for a while.
Then they sat quietly for a while.
The children were tired and cranky and afraid that they’d never get Roz working again. Jaya slumped against the table and looked up at the ceiling. Then her eyes drifted to the lanterns dimly glowing above. And then she had an idea. She climbed onto a wooden railing, grabbed one of the lanterns from its hook, and climbed back down. When she held the lantern close to Roz’s body, Jad noticed that there were different numbers lightly etched onto each of the internal parts. Now things were starting to make sense. The children quickly removed the correct box and tube, they put the robot back together, and they turned her on.
Click.
Roz’s body tensed.
Her quiet whirring slowly started.
Her eyes began to glow.
But she didn’t say a word.
“Are you okay?” said Jad.
Roz pointed to her mouth.
“Can you speak?” said Jaya.
Roz shook her head.
“She can’t speak!” cried the boy. “We must have put something back in the wrong place!”
Click.
The children opened up Roz’s body, rearranged some of her internal parts, and put her back together again.
Click.
Roz powered up and said, “Children, I can now speak, but I cannot move.”
Click.
After hours of trial and error, and with morning light seeping into the barn, the operation was a success. Roz stood up, scanned her internal parts, and said, “Children, you did it! You removed my Transmitter! Thank you so much for your help.”
“You’re very welcome,” said Jaya, yawning.
Jad checked his computer. “I can still see your signal on the map,” he said. “Your Transmitter is still working, so keep it close until you leave the farm.” And then he stuffed the little electronic device into the robot’s tool belt.
“Children, there is a bit of bad news,” said Roz in a serious tone. “I know you have been up all night long, but I am afraid it is time for you both to get ready for school.”
CHAPTER 44
THE PATIENT ROBOT
After being trapped on Hilltop Farm for nearly a year, Roz was now free to run away anytime she liked. But without Brightbill to guide her, she wouldn’t make it far. So the robot patiently waited for spring to come, and for her son to return, so they could begin their long journey home together.
CHAPTER 45
THE BARN CONVERSATIONS
As winter dragged on, Roz spent more of her time inside with the herd. There were long stretches of quiet. The cows chewed their hay. The robot tapped the farm computer. The wind gently rattled the windows. And then someone would start talking, someone else would chime in, and the quiet of the barn would gradually be overtaken by conversations like these.
“I am so bored.” Tess was staring at the floor. “I can’t wait until spring, when I can wander through tall grass and feel warm sunlight on my back. I just hope I don’t die of boredom first!”
Old Annabelle snorted. “You young cows are spoiled rotten,” she said. “Your lives are so easy, and still you find things to complain about!”
Tess rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we should be grateful for what we’ve got, you’ve told us before.”
“Well, you should be grateful for what you’ve got!” said Annabelle. “I’ve lived on other farms, and trust me, you have nothing to complain about.”
Tess couldn’t help being curious, and she said, “What were those other farms like?”
“Oh, I’d rather not discuss them,” said Annabelle in a low voice. “You see, I witnessed some terrible things on those farms. It was a blessing when I was moved here, but I often think about the animals I left behind. I hope they’re okay.”
The old cow sank into thought for a minute.
“I know life here isn’t perfect,” she said at last. “But we have so much to be grateful for. We have our lovely herd, and we have this beautiful barn, and—”
“And we have Roz,” added Tess.
“And we have Roz.” Annabelle turned and smiled at the robot in the corner. “Roz listens to us, and treats us with love and kindness, and she makes our lives as comfortable as she possibly can. We certainly will miss her when she’s gone.”
“Roz, why do humans need so much cow’s milk?” said Lily as the other calves crowded around her. It was a question they’d all been wondering about.
“Well, there are billions of humans in the world,” explained Roz, “and many of them drink milk and combine it with different ingredients to make different foods.”
“What kinds of foods?” said another calf.
“Butter and cheese and yogurt are made with milk,” said Roz. “Many desserts are also made with milk.”
“What’s a dessert?” said someone else.
“A dessert is a sweet food eaten at the end of a meal. Popular desserts include cake and custard and ice cream.”
This answer only raise
d more questions.
“What is cake?”
“What is custard?”
“What is ice cream?”
Roz tried her best to explain these foods to the calves. But it wasn’t easy. After all, the robot couldn’t even perform the simple act of eating. How could she possibly describe the flavors and sensations of tasting delicious desserts?
Lily interrupted. “Just tell me this, Roz. When we’re older, will our milk be used to make desserts?”
“Yes,” said the robot.
The calves smiled. Then they trotted away, happy in the knowledge that, someday, they’d help to bring sweet and delicious things into the world.
“It is almost spring,” said Roz to the herd. “It is almost time for me to run away, back home to the wilderness. I am sorry that I must leave, but you will all be well cared for when I am gone, I promise.”
Cows began mooing from their stalls.
“Don’t worry about us, Roz.”
“There’s no need to apologize.”
“We understand why you’re running away.”
Lily poked her head through the railings of her stall and said, “I could never run away to the wilderness. I would be too frightened!”
“I’d love to roam through the wilderness!” said Tess. “It sounds so exciting!”
“No wilderness for me, thank you very much,” said Annabelle. “I just want a quiet, cozy life.”
“I have plenty to fear in the wilderness,” said Roz. “However, I have more to fear here. I can never be my true self around humans. And so I must try to return to my home.
“I only wish I could do it by myself,” she went on. “But I need help. I could never escape from the farm without the children, and I could never find my way home without my son. I feel bad for asking so much of them.”
“Don’t feel bad,” said Lily. “Brightbill and the children want to help you. They love you! We all do. The farm won’t feel the same without you, Roz. But we know you’re doing the right thing.”
The herd agreed with Lily. And throughout the barn, cows quietly nodded their heads.
CHAPTER 46
THE SPRING
With each passing day, the sun climbed a little higher and its rays grew a little warmer. The last patches of snow melted away and color returned to the land. The pasture, the fields, the trees, they all were turning bright green, and the air slowly filled with the fresh smells of spring.
Many of the cows had been steadily growing bigger, and now calving season had arrived. When the time was right, each cow went out to the pasture so her calf could be born in soft grass. The robot stood nearby, just in case anyone needed her help, but nobody ever did. Even the first-time mothers knew what to do instinctively. And soon, newborn calves were frolicking around the farm.
Spring was a happy, exciting time, and yet Roz was distracted. More and more, she found herself looking to the skies, hoping to see Brightbill and his flock. She knew they were on their way.
CHAPTER 47
THE DINNER
Mr. Shareef hopped out of the truck with his arms full of shopping bags. He limped toward the farmhouse, dragging his leg in the usual way. And then he fell. Roz ran over and found the man sprawled on the driveway, groceries scattered around him.
“Are you okay?” she said, pulling him to his feet.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled.
Roz started picking up the groceries and said, “Let me help you inside.”
A minute later the two of them were stepping into the house. Jackets and hats hung from pegs on the wall. Shoes were lined up beneath a bench. The man peeled off his boots and hollered, “Kids, it’s time to cook dinner!”
Footsteps pounded across the ceiling and the children came flying down the staircase with their dog.
“Is Roz having dinner with us?” said Jaya.
“Roz doesn’t eat!” said Jad.
“I know that! But she could sit with us.”
“How about it, Roz?” said Mr. Shareef. “Care to join us for dinner?”
The robot stared at the family.
The family smiled at the robot.
“What would you like me to do?” said Roz.
In a very proper voice, Jad said, “I would greatly enjoy the pleasure of your company for dinner.”
In a very improper voice, Jaya said, “I order you to stay for dinner!”
The children didn’t wait for a response. They snatched the groceries from Roz and scampered off. Oscar ran after them, barking, “Is that food? It smells like food! I want food!”
The wooden floor creaked as Roz followed Mr. Shareef through the living room. A comfy chair and a sofa faced a darkened electronic screen. Above the fireplace hung a painting of a familiar old barn. Doorways led to other rooms. Roz glanced into Mr. Shareef’s office and saw a portrait of his family, including his wife. Mrs. Shareef was pretty, with dark, curly hair and a bright smile. It was the same smile Roz saw on the children.
“Look, Jaya’s crying like a baby!” came Jad’s giggly voice from the kitchen. When Roz walked in, the girl was chopping an onion with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Roz, I order you to chop this onion for me,” said Jaya, wiping her eyes.
The robot picked up a knife and in a flash the onion was perfectly chopped and dumped into a bowl. Clearly, Roz was designed to chop onions.
“Roz, I order you to take the night off!” Mr. Shareef laughed. “The kids and I want to cook. We enjoy it!”
More vegetables were chopped, skillets started sizzling, delicious aromas swirled together, and before long a magnificent meal was set on the dinner table. Oscar positioned himself below, to catch food scraps, and everyone else took a seat.
Mr. Shareef turned to his daughter. “Would you like to say grace?”
The girl lowered her head. “Thank you, God, for this yummy food we’re about to gobble down, amen.”
“Thank you, Jaya,” said Mr. Shareef with a wink. “And thank you, Roz, for everything you’ve done this past year. I had my doubts, but now I can’t imagine what we’d do without you.”
The children looked at each other.
Then the family grabbed their knives and forks and dug into dinner. A colorful, leafy salad. A plate of sautéed asparagus. Creamy mashed potatoes and buttered bread and tall glasses of milk. The meal was beautiful. But as Roz scanned the table, her eyes kept returning to the roasted chicken. It was about the size of Brightbill. Suddenly, the robot was full of questions.
Do chickens live happy lives?
Did this chicken know it would be eaten?
Were humans bad for eating animals?
No, thought Roz, humans are simply following their instincts, like all creatures, like Roz herself. At least the Shareefs honored this animal by giving thanks, and by turning it into a beautiful, nourishing meal.
After he’d finished eating, Mr. Shareef stepped out of the room, and he returned a moment later carrying a violin and a bow. “Growing up, I dreamed of being a musician,” he said, thumping back into his chair. He tuned the instrument, put it under his chin, and started to play.
His bow glided back and forth, his fingers danced across the strings, and a lovely old folk song filled the room. Mr. Shareef tapped his foot as the notes rang out, soft and then loud, slow and then fast. The song ended with a flourish, and the music faded to silence. Then he rested the violin on his knee. “This instrument has been in our family for a very long time,” he said, “since the days when Cyrus Shareef first built the farm.”
Cyrus Shareef.
Roz knew that name. She unsnapped a pocket on her tool belt and pulled out the small journal. “I discovered this in the old barn,” she said, handing it over.
The children huddled around their father as he took the journal. They read their ancestor’s name on the cover. Then they carefully opened it and turned the brittle pages. “I’ve never seen this journal before,” said Mr. Shareef. “It’s a piece of our family history. Kids, look at how they u
sed to milk cows.…”
Roz left the Shareefs like that, examining the journal, learning about their family’s history. But what about their family’s future? Their lives were difficult. They needed help. And Roz was about to run away forever. As she marched back to the barn that night, the robot felt something like worry and confusion and guilt.
CHAPTER 48
THE RETURN
The robot’s feelings of worry and confusion and guilt went away as soon as she heard her son’s voice echoing across the farm.
“Ma, we’re back!”
Brightbill’s flock appeared above the pasture, flapping and honking and laughing. They glided down to Roz, and Brightbill took his place on his mother’s shoulder.
“I told you we’d keep your son out of trouble!” squawked Loudwing.
“Thank you, everyone!” The robot spoke in her most cheerful voice. “It is so good to see all of you again.”
The cows trotted over, grinning and happily mooing to the geese. While the herd and the flock caught up with each other, Roz and Brightbill slipped away to speak privately.
“What’s the plan, Ma?” said Brightbill.
“The plan is simple,” said Roz. “Tonight, under the cover of darkness, I will run away from this farm. And then you and I will begin our journey home.”
CHAPTER 49
THE GOOD-BYES
That evening was full of sad good-byes. The first good-bye was between the flock and their young leader. The other geese wanted to help Roz and Brightbill get home. But the journey would be dangerous, and Brightbill refused to put his flock at risk. He demanded they return to the island without him. The geese could feel their instincts urging them onward, and they knew Roz and Brightbill would look after each other, so they said their good-byes and took off into the night sky.
The next good-bye was between the robot and the cows. Roz marched into the pasture one last time as the herd gathered around.
